My Lady
by The Cheshire Cheese
Summary: Pre-teen Naomi discovers a holonovel, written by an inebriated Tom, B'Elanna and Harry, a year earlier. Finding herself in a high fantasy epic (and I do mean "high"), Naomi cuts loose and goes tribble-sh!t, in an adventure of sword battles with excessive blood, profanity-filled prophecies, and wizards offering puffs from very enchanted pipes... (Set shortly after "Homestead")
1. The Program

**A/N: This story is meant to be "tongue in cheek," not to be taken too seriously. It's not quite a parody, but I'm not sure I can imagine it "really" happening on Voyager either. It contains extreme profanity, sexual themes, and drug references; however, these things are "contained" within the holoprogram Naomi discovers. **

**Anyone who's seen the movie "Your Highness" will see familiar lines and themes; however, you don't need to be familiar with it to read this spoof, and it does not follow "Your Highness" too closely, so it shouldn't give too much away about the movie.**

* * *

Neelix was gone.

He'd left earlier that evening, to rejoin a group of his people in an asteroid. Naomi knew she'd probably never see him again. At least she'd managed not to cry this time, like she had the day Metzoti and the twins had stopped by her quarters to bid her goodbye before reporting to the transporter room. She'd kept her cool, and then cried for a while in her bedroom. Now she was sitting on the sofa, finishing up a late night snack, thinking way, way too deeply about her life.

It was getting close to midnight, and Naomi Wildman was alone in her quarters. Her mother was long asleep. Naomi had stayed up late to finish up her painting for Ensign Jenkins' art class, and finished it more quickly than she'd expected. Naomi sat back, staring at the results. She'd copied it from a photo of herself with Icheb, Metzoti, and the twins. She missed having classmates. Friends her own age. Before the Borg children had come aboard Voyager Naomi had never thought twice about being the only child on the ship, and even hoped they'd never return "home," so she wouldn't have to leave. But now it made her depressed, to know that she was finishing up her childhood alone, and that an even lonelier teenage hood lay ahead of her.

The mischievousness. That was one thing Naomi missed terribly. How she and Metzodi would whisper and gossip while the Doctor was lecturing, or try to make out different shapes in Commander Chakotay's tattoo while he was boring them with ancient mythology. She still tried to play these games with herself now and then, holding funny conversations in her mind whenever her teachers started to bore her, but it wasn't the same. To make matters worse, when Harry Kim had tried teaching her how to play the clarinet two days before, Naomi had been horrified to find herself blushing around the Ensign. No friends…and no boyfriends. No one her age. The closest person her age was Icheb, who was her best friend, but still a bit too old…though given how fast Naomi aged in comparison to him, maybe in a few months….

Naomi sighed, and took her paint brushes to the sink to wash them off. As she scrubbed the paint from the bristles, she tried to decide what exactly it was she wanted at the moment. It wasn't a boyfriend; she was thinking about boys, but not yet to the point that she really wanted a date. It wasn't that she needed someone to confide in; Mom, Seven of Nine, Icheb, Captain Janeway, Tom, Harry, B'Elanna, Ensign Jenkins ("Call me Amelia!"), Crewman Chell, they were all ears when she wanted to speak her mind, and loads of fun to be around. What was it then? Mischief. There was no one to break rules with. All these adults, and Icheb, they were so…professional. So _Starfleet_. They advised against it whenever she proposed stealing a shuttle and getting into some space battles (well, except sometimes Tom); no one wanted to jokingly play along with her ideas, like Metzoti and the twins would. Seven, Mom and the rest always corrected her when she spoke improper English, scolded her when she uttered a curse word. Naomi needed a _release. _That's what she wanted. She wanted to go wild. She wanted to break some rules, swear, get into battles, flirt with cute boys…

Careful not to wake her mother, Naomi put on her socks and shoes, and tossed her fuzzy orange sweater over her pajamas, then headed down to the holodeck. It occurred to her, as she was walking down the hall that she hadn't booked a slot yet, and it would probably be taken. She'd just have to ask someone if they'd be okay with making a trade.

Timidly, Naomi entered Holodeck 1…and stepped into Hell.

Literally.

Klingon Hell.

She recognized the gates of Grethel, from the illustrations she'd seen in Chakotay's class on Klingon culture. She was standing on the shore of the island, before the large metal gates, watching the Barge of the Dead pull up.

"Step forward, Mortal!" the Klingon steering the boat bellowed hoarsely. "And bring your dishonor with you!"

Naomi peered over eagerly, to see who would step out. She entertained the idea of seeing B'Elanna Torres, because she just couldn't fathom who else would write and play in a holonovel like this. Instead, it was Ensign Vorik. Ensign Vorik, with no shirt on. Ensign Vorik, with his hands and arms bound tightly with black leather straps and small chains, being greeted at the gates of Grethel by a hoard of Klingon holding burning hot pain sticks, whose black armor left little to the imagination. He kept his Vulcan composure, but breathed deeply and raised his eyebrows, as if he anticipated this.

By now Naomi's eyes felt like they were bulging out of their sockets. Her horror increased when she glimpsed Vorik's pants, and saw something _else_ bulging. Not knowing what else to do, Naomi cleared her throat timidly.

"Um, excuse me…?"

Vorik coolly glanced at her, then did a double take, and almost jumped. "Computer, end program!"

Grethel, the Klingon women, and Vorik's chains vanished. Still shirtless, the Vulcan cleared his throat. "Excuse _me_, Miss Wildman. I was…conducting research…on alien cultures…."

Though he was obviously trying to put Naomi at ease, hearing him use "cultures" _plural_ only increased Naomi's shock.

"S-Sorry," Naomi looked away. "I, um, I couldn't sleep, and was just looking for someone who wouldn't mind, uh, trading holodeck times with me." Naomi suddenly realized she had an advantage, and added something else: "My mom doesn't want me out this late though, so…I won't tell if you won't." She winked at the Vulcan, and saw him tense slightly.

"Yes, yes," Vorik said, seeing which way the wind was blowing. "You may use this holodeck, Naomi. I should…complete some work for engineering."

Naomi suddenly recalled that Vorik worked under _B'Elanna_ in engineering, implying something _extremely_ awkward about what she'd just seen.

"O-Okay. Thanks!"

Naomi waited politely while Vorik collected the shirt of his uniform, which was sitting folded up in the corner of the holodeck, and hastily put it on. Once he'd left, she went to the control panel and began searching the database for something new. Something she'd never played before. She'd long outgrown the "Flotter and Treevis" program, though she occasionally revisited it for nostalgia's sake. She loved "Captain Proton," but had played them all, had them memorized. Tom hadn't written anything new yet. "Fair Haven" bored her. She was definitely in the mood for something exciting…and far from reality. She tried looking under the "Fantasy/Science Fiction" section. Vampires… "Lord of the Rings"…some Bolian legend…she finally stopped on something called "My Lady."

"_My Lady:" Get high and mighty with Marcellus the ranger, and Snails the thief! Join in sword battles, fight dragons, rescue damsels, and share in magical herbs with the Great Magician! [NOT FOR MINORS.]_

The whole, short description intrigued Naomi, but it was that parental warning at the end that made her go ahead and open it. It took a bit of hacking, as she worked around the parental controls, fooling the computer into thinking she was her mother.

Finally, Naomi saw a dark forest materialize around her. She found herself standing in a small clearing, surrounded by blooming trees and dewy grass. The night sky above was dark blue and smattered with stars. It had a serene feeling, like something out of a dream. As she watched the stars, one seemed to beam more brightly than the others. As soon as she was focusing her attention on it, the star grew, and gracefully soared down until it was floating inches from her face. It was a fairy. A fairy dressed in a leafy, one-sleeved gown, firefly winds buzzing behind her. Her face looked familiar, like someone Naomi had seen in a photograph. Her hair was short and blonde, with pointed ears protruding from the feathery locks.

"Greetings, traveler," the fairy said in a low soft voice. "You are in a new land. A strange land. Yet perhaps you hold the key to its salvation."

"Oh, not another 'chosen one' plot," Naomi muttered.

"Ages ago," the fairy echoed, bobbing in the air, "The land was ruled by dragons, prophecies, and other really serious shit. It was a dark time—"

"Co-computer freeze program!"

The fairy froze in midair, as did the billowing leaves and grass.

Naomi stared at the fairy, trying to decide if she'd heard right. Had that fairy just said "shit"? Of course Naomi heard curse words from that gangster in "Sandrine's," as well as some of the adults in her life. But she hadn't expected it here. Then again, there was that parental warning on the program.

"Computer, resume program from ten seconds earlier."

The program "rewound" ten seconds, and the fairy repeated herself.

Ages ago," the fairy echoed, bobbing in the air, "The land was ruled by dragons, prophecies, and other really serious shit. It was a dark time, where the strong preyed upon the weak. Hope was frail and honor was rare. Princes abandoned their brothers, in favor of getting stoned in the forest, and fucking beautiful elf women. But all this would change, the day the traveler from the Netherwords arrived in the land of…"

The fairy's voice trailed off, and she floated there for a moment, as if waiting for something. Then, Naomi heard some voices coming from nowhere. These voices didn't sound rehearsed; they were muttering, like a conversation caught on a recording.

"Appalachia." Tom Paris's voice said.

"Tom, that's in the U.S.A." Harry Kim's voice countered.

"…Elvira."

"Elvira?" Harry asked.

B'Elanna's voice came on. "Elvira. An ancient TV host Tom likes to watch. She hosted horror and sci-fi movies…and her dress left little to the imagination."

"B'Elanna I only watch because I'm picturing you in that dress!"

"Very funny."

"Okay, you want me to call this land B'Elanna?"

"No, no, Elvira's fine. No one's gonna know what it's from anyway. Pass me some more of that Romulan Ale, Harry…"

Naomi knew B'Elanna would never even consider touching alcohol while pregnant. So that told her this holonovel had to have been written the better half of a year ago, at least.

The Fairy, who'd apparently been listening to the conversation as the three had been writing the program, took the suggestion and nodded. "…Elvira! The Land of Elvira could only be saved by the new stranger, standing alone, in the glen."

"So this is what Tom, Harry and B'Elanna do when they're drunk?" Naomi asked the fairy humorously, unsure if the fairy was programmed to hear her or not.

"Turn back, stranger!" The fairy bellowed, flying backwards, away from Naomi. "Turn back before it's too late!"

The fairy's form faded, until she had vanished. As she disappeared, the forest brightened into daylight, and Naomi saw a dirt road stretch along in front of her. She looked down, and saw herself now wearing a costume over her pajamas and sweater. Brown pants and a chainmail tunic, that flattered her immature figure. Tall boots covered in elegantly carved buckles; metal shoulder pieces, and two round plates that fit perfectly over her small, still-forming breasts. She wondered if the breastplates were only programmed to appear if the player was female, or if Icheb would find himself wearing the same costume if he tried this program. Given the state the authors were apparently in when they wrote it, Naomi couldn't say she'd be surprised. Around her waist was a thick belt, with a gold buckle shaped like a dragon's snout, and dangling from that, a sheathed broadsword and dagger. Naomi brushed her red-gold hair over her shoulders, and headed down the road.

* * *

**A/N: I want this story to be SHORT, because I want it done and out of my mind ASAP, so I can get back to my serious fics. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but alas. **


	2. A Quest!

**Chapter 2: A Quest!**

* * *

Naomi followed the gravel road for only a few seconds, before she came to the first stop in the game: an average sized oak tree, with a quaint arched door housed in its bark. The door was painted bright blue, and was equip with an old fashioned doorknob and a little square window. Through the window, Naomi saw the inside of a massive, dimly lit tavern, crowded with humans and various mythical creatures. She stepped back, eying the tree curiously.

From one of the lower branches dangled a medieval sign with a picture of an elegantly painted pixy, resembling the one from the opening sequence. Without the blinding glow around her, Naomi now saw the cropped blond hair and facial features more clearly, and recognized it as Kes, the nurse who'd helped her mother deliver her. Naomi's memories of Kes were just split-second flashes from her toddlerhood, but she'd seen enough photos and holo-recreations to recognize her. The old English text around the pixy read: THE GREEN FAIRY.

"The Green Fairy?" Naomi read aloud.

She knew what the Green Fairy was. She'd taken a week long course with Ensign Harper, on Victorian literature. The "Green Fairy" was a reference to absinth, a drug that Oscar Wilde and other greats experimented with, in the "Decadent" decades of the 1800s. Naomi didn't know how much Tom, B'Elanna and Harry were into Victorian history, but the decided to be on her guard when she opened the door and stepped inside.

It was like a cross between a bar and a pirate ship. Fishing nets hung from the ceiling, containing preserved fish and stuffed wildlife. Between windows on the wall and in the corners stood taxidermy-stuffed bears, unicorns, griffons, and even a small dragon. She surveyed the crowd, and was relieved to find she wasn't the only one in armor. At one table, a group of green trolls or ogres sang and drank, in a manner similar to Klingons. In another corner, there was a group of small goblins that looked like primitive, animatronic puppets, surrounding an elegantly dressed man with feathery blond hair and _very _tight pants. Naomi had to step back, to allow a sultry female centaur in a leather bikini to pass by, with a human man saddled on her back.

Unsure what she was supposed to do next, Naomi squeezed through the eccentric crowd, to the bar. The bartender's back was turned, so she raped her knuckles against the counter.

"Excuse me? Some service?"

The bar tender turned around, and actually made Naomi jump with his hideousness. He looked like a cross between a mouse and a green-skinned troll. His ears were like a Ferangi's, but larger and (somehow) uglier. Exaggerated pointed teeth jutted from his mouth in every direction, and his pale green face was dotted with hairy warts. Dipping the medieval cap on his head, the troll said in a sneering voice, "Evening, my lady! And what can I get for ya today?"

"Um," Naomi swallowed. "What's the cheapest drink you've got?"

"Water."

"Oh. Well…" Naomi checked a satchel on her sword belt, and investigated the coins inside.

"He's with us!" a voice said from behind.

Naomi turned around. Tom Paris and Harry Kim stood behind her. Well, not quite. But they were obviously based on Tom and Harry. Tom's character had black curly hair that reached his shoulders, and wore a sleeveless tunic of black, stud-covered leather, over brown slacks and ranger boots. He was decked from head to toe with medieval weapons, most noticeably a sword on his belt and a sling of arrows around his torso. Harry on the other hand had white-blond hair, inhumanly blue eyes, and pointed ears. He was wrapped in a hooded, forest-green cloak.

Naomi realized she'd been distracted by the characters' outfits for several seconds, and had gotten lost in the game. "Sorry…where were we?"

Tom's character clapped her on the shoulder, and repeated to the bar keep, "He's with us, Quarkus!"

"I'm a she," Naomi said.

"She. Whatever."

Then again, given how raunchy this program might be, it was probably a good thing that the characters weren't taking special note of her femininity.

"Yes," Tom's character continued. "For I, Marcellus, had fought many battles with my brother in arms—what's your name again?"

Naomi almost told him her name, but then stopped. She could give herself any name she wanted.

"Computer freeze program."

The saloon froze, and Naomi thought over what she wanted to call herself. Various names from Human and Ktarian literature flipped through her mind. She wanted something that defined her, but that had the kind of over-the-top mythical ring to it that a game like this called for. Then it hit her. It was corny as hell, but she was alone here, so who cared?

"Computer resume program." As soon as the characters were blinking and breathing again she finished, "Ktaris. My name's Ktaris."

Tom—or Marcellus—nodded to the bartender. "Sir Ktaris is my brother—er, sister in arms! We have fought a great many battles together! Put her on my tab. She'll have the Green Fairy's Meade, on the rocks!"

"Um, thanks!" Naomi shrugged, as Quarkus the bartender slid her a flask filling with an emerald green fizz.

Naomi, Marcellus, and Harry's character all sat at the counter right there, sipping their drinks. The Green Fairy's Meade had been programmed to taste like a fruity mix drink. Naomi's experience with alcohol was limited to the tiny doses served on Voyager at holidays, and the small amounts her mother let her try. This one tasted like it had some soda mixed in with it.

"You seem new around here, friend." Marcellus took a swig from his flask. "I'm Marcellus, ranger. And this is my comrade in arms, Snails."

"Zunicious!" Harry's character corrected him. "High priest among the elves."

"But we're not among the elves, are we, Snails." Marcellus said. "The elves have banished you for your treachery against the king, and now you are my squire, and your name is Snails."

"Those accusations were greatly exaggerated!" Snails insisted, his eyes bulging. "I never touched the queen, nor the three princesses, nor their handmaidens! They snuck up upon me whilst I bathed in the river!"

Trying to change the subject, Naomi said casually, "I wish there was something I could do to give back to you two, for the drink. Something platonic that is," she added quickly.

"Lady Ktaris," Marcellus clapped her back. "There is something you can do. You can join us on our quest!"

_Now we're talking! _

"Love to!" Naomi said eagerly. "What's your quest?"

Marcellus and Snails fell silent, and looked at each other as if embarrassed.

Snails cleared his throat. "We haven't quite figured that part out yet."

Naomi's eyes shifted, and she offered, "Your quest is to find a quest!"

"Huzza!" Marcellus and Snails bellowed, raising their flasks triumphantly.

"This young warrior has a head on her shoulders!" Snails said.

"And horns like a dragon's on her head!" Marcellus added, nodding to Naomi's Ktarian horns.

Naomi grinned proudly.

Snails nodded. "Indeed, people have strange foreheads in the Netherworlds."

Marcellus' eyes bulged suddenly. "Speak not of that here, Snails! There are many in the Realm who are unkind to outsiders. We should keep Lady Ktaris' heritage a secret."

"Secret?" Snails looked at Marcellus sarcastically. "Fine. You wanna knit up a scarf to cover those obvious lizard-teeth on her forehead, or shall we merely sand them off with a stone?"

Before Naomi could decide whether to laugh or protest loudly at this, there came a low, gurgling sound from behind the counter. Slowly, all three turned and saw Quarkus, the bartender, shaking like a maraca. His green skin took on a gradual glow, and smoke erupted from his hideous ears. Naomi leaned back, wrinkling her nose. The smoke smelled like sour apple juice.

"Thou consortest with a Netherworlder, an outsider? A sworn enemy of the Realm?" That old English sounded so odd, on a voice that was almost certainly based on some Ferangi with a big-city accent.

"_Consortest_?" Snails repeated. "I think not. She's, like, half our age!"

"I WARN THEE!" Quarkus screeched like a teapot. "THAT AS A TROLL, 'TIS MY SACRED DUTY TO ERADICATE THE REALM OF ALL OUTSIDEEEERS…"

He finished the last word with a low, demonic voice, and his body split down the middle with a ray of green light. Out of the empty shell of a corpse rose a glowing, green ball of fire, shaped exactly like Quarkus' head, but many times larger. The demon troll floated up to the ceiling like some balloon from Hell, roaring, eyes flaming, pointed Ferangi-teeth chomping. Everyone in the pub was sat still as a statue (or a cheaply programmed hologram), staring up at the beast. That is, until Quarkus shot a fireball from his left eye, that vaporized one of the ogres. After that, everyone began to clear out of the bar, running out the door, or diving out the windows.

"Raise thy weapons!" Marcellus bellowed, drawing his bow and arrow.

Snails drew two curved daggers from his cloak. "The blades of an elf repel dark magic!"

Naomi swallowed, and drew her broadsword. It was even heavier in her hands that on her belt.

"Quarkus, son of Fartkiss," Snails bellowed over his daggers, "The Trolls have no business killing Netherworlders' here! This is not thy territory! Your kind is a guest in the lands of Elvi—"

A fireball from Quarkus's _right_ eye shot out, and then Snails was headless. Naomi stared bug-eyed for a moment, at the still standing, still holding-his-daggers, elf, with a smoking crater between his shoulders. The she screamed bloody murder.

"Fret not, Ktaris," Marcellus assured her, as he circled Quarkus with his bow and arrow. "Elves have many lives. Snails will return, in but a few moments."

This greatly relieved Naomi. Even though she knew Snails wasn't "real," it was still upsetting to see the face of Harry Kim get decapitated in front of her.

An echoing roar brought Naomi back to the game.

Quarkus was floating down towards her, his teeth chomping like a Ktarian swamp piranha. Not surprisingly, Marcellus's arrows flew right through it. Naomi felt her sword starting to burn her hands as Quarkus came closer. She ducked, letting the green floating head fly right over her, and rolled behind him, then slashed at the back of Quarkus' lumpy, wart-covered head. Her sword went right through it, like fire.

"How're we supposed to kill this thing?!" Naomi hollered.

Marcellus was too busy firing arrows to respond. Snails meanwhile deflected Quarkus' fireballs artfully, with his eleven daggers. In fact, for all the comedy and silliness in this program, this fight scene was kind of cool. The squinty-eyed determination Marcellus wore when firing his arrows definitely belonged to Tom Paris; Naomi had seen him wear it when piloting Voyager or a shuttlecraft through a difficult path, and when he argued with B'Elanna. Snails, meanwhile, had the eager bright-eyed excitement that had made Harry Naomi's first crush.

"Okay," Naomi breathed to herself, as she stood there with her legs parted, holding her heavy sword like a golf club. "What would Captain Janeway do?"

Try to make peace with the floating head, before resorting to violence.

Maybe that was the point of this scene! Maybe it was a test of the player's character! One of those "prove you're a true hero" clichés, or something.

"Stop!" Naomi took one hand off her sword, and raised it to her comrades. "Stop fighting! That is…cease thy….eh, whatever."

While Marcellus and Snails stared at her, Quarkus spun around a few times like a top, finally stopping to face her.

"Speak, foreign devil woman!" the troll roared.

"I want—I _wish_—to make peace with thee!" Naomi bellowed. "I wish you no harm! I had no intention of intruding on your pub. Don't punish these two, they just happened to be—"

"Your words bore me, Outsider!" the troll sneered.

He opened his mouth, and a long forked tongue of flames slithered out. Naomi could feel the head coming from the green fiery tendrils. Screaming again, she tried to run around to the back of Quarkus' head, but the tongue followed her. She finally stopped, her sword raised. The tongue moved around like a snake, preparing to strike. Cringing, Naomi slashed at the tongue with her sword. The tongue dodged it easily, and Quarkus laughed. She tried again, and missed again. After a few more failed slashes, Naomi tried stabbing instead, which came out even more clumsily. But on her second stab, her sword fell right into the center of the troll's massive ear. The giant head arched back in a pained scream. Naomi stood there, her sword in his hear, unsure what to do.

"His ear!" Snails gasped. "Of course! The only weak point of a troll!"

"Oh my god," Naomi screamed at Snails, "You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?!"

"I guess it just slipped my mind," Snails shrugged bashfully.

Naomi worked to pull her sword from Quarkus' ear. The screaming was starting to hurt her ears. She gave her sword a twist, and that apparently was the last step. As soon as she did, Quarkus inflated and exploded, raining on the pub with little green sparks and flames, like a firework.

Panting, Naomi asked, "Does…does that…kind of thing…happen often?"

"All the time." Marcellus said, replacing his bow back in its hold on his sling of arrows. "Look!" he pointed suddenly. "Beneath that table!"

Under a table against the wall sat a small green stone, about the size of a baseball. Lumpy and very oddly shaped, it was giving off a feint green glow. Naomi stepped closer for a better look. The stone had a concave shape, with a crude spiral design.

Snails stepped up next to her. "Tis the ear of the slain troll!" the elf knelt down and picked the ear up in both hands, as if holding a butterfly. "Here," he held it up to Naomi. "You slew the troll. The ear is now your prize!"

Naomi's eyes jumped from the ear to Snails. "Oh! ...I don't want that thing touching me."

"You would deny yourself one of the rarest and most powerful prizes in the Realm?" Snails looked at her curiously.

"This ear would be useful to you!" Marcellus added. "With the ear of a slain troll, one may hear sounds from many miles away. You could hear to the plots of your enemies, check on the wellbeing of your friends, listen to the dangers of an unknown cave or castle before entering!"

Naomi nodded and shrugged. "Then one of you two can carry it! I mean, we all killed the troll together, right?"

"Nay!" Snails stared at her, taken aback. "Twas you who drove your blade into this very ear! You have earned it! You, Ktaris, are the hero! It is your token!"

_Hero. Token._

So this was one of those games. Where you had to collect tokens, to advance in the journey.

"Well, I guess if you put it that way," Naomi gingerly took the ear in both her hands, holding it as if it might explode. Hell, for all she knew, it would.

"How does it feel?" Marcellus asked, with a proud smile.

Naomi stared at the ear in her hands. "It doesn't feel like an ear…it feels like…" she weighed it in her hands for a moment. "…plastic." Her nose wrinkled. "And smells like a green apple."

Not knowing what else to do with it, she carefully placed the ear inside her satchel, and tied it shut.

Marcellus and Snails both smiled, like two mentors watching their student earn her first trophy.

"Excellent!" Marcellus sheathed his last arrow. " Now come. We have a quest to find!"


	3. The Damsel in Distress

**Chapter 3: The Damsel in Distress**

* * *

The sun still shone brightly, and the birds were still chirping. That put Naomi off, a bit. She kept waiting for the sky to cloud over, or the forest to become stranger. But it remained looking like a Terran city park. She half expected to find a playground around the next corner.

Marcellus and Snails were strolling in front of her, arm in arm, singing a song she recognized from _Lord of the Rings._ Well, kind of. They'd put their own, immature twist on it.

"_Hey, ho, to the bottle I go, to heel my cock and drown my woe! The rain may fall, the whores may blow, but they'll still beee, many miles to go—_"

"How many more 'miles' until we find another monster to fight?" Naomi asked impatiently.

"Patience, Lady Ktaris." Marcellus assured her. "We will hear the sounds of a person in distress—"

A feminine scream cut through the air.

"—now!" Marcellus finished.

"This way!" Snails pointed with his dagger. "With my elven empathy, I can sense the distress coming from this direction!"

The elf sprinted off the path, into the woods. Naomi and Marcellus followed him, drawing their weapons. Naomi blinked and flinched as tree branches cut her face.

"Snails, if elves are empaths, how come you didn't sense hostility from that troll before he attacked us?"

"Yeah," Marcellus frowned. "Why couldn't you?"

"Uh…" Snails thought it over. "We…must be in a clear mind. Mine was clouded yet from too much mead and mer-whiskey!"

Snails stopped suddenly, holding out his arms in a blocking motion. Marcellus and Naomi skidded to a halt. They stood at the top of a short ravine, above a small clearing in the forest. The three of them quietly crouched down, peering over the bushes at the scene below.

There was a stone alter in the middle of the clearing, with a strange-looking woman lying on it. Her skin was cloud-white, and her hair lay across the alter in long indigo curls. She wore snug-fitting pants made from black leather, and matching knee-high boots. Her mid-drift was bare under her black top and green (dragon-hide?) vest. She had a thick belt, with a short skirt of studded leather strips. Actually, Naomi thought, this outfit looked like a darker, kinkier version of the one she'd seen B'Elanna Torres wear, in her Maquis profile pictures. The woman roared through her teeth, struggling. She was restrained to the altar, with thick chains wrapped around each ankle and wrist.

Snails whispered, "An Amazon!"

Marcellus added, "A race of relentless female warriors!"

"Oh," Naomi said.

Obviously Tom, B'Elanna and Harry had taken an artistic license with the word "Amazon."

Snails squinted at the entrapped warrior woman. "What force could overtake an Amazon?"

Marcellus wrinkled his nose, and snarled, "What dickless coward would so disgrace a creature so powerful and lovely?"

As if answering his question, a figure stepped forward into the clearing. He was absurdly tall, perhaps nine feet, and covered a brown flowing robe. His skin was green like the troll's, and his ears were exaggeratedly long and pointed, jetting out from his head like the branches of a plant. Actually, his ears had little growths on them, which resembled leaved branches. And the mane of hair that tumbled down his back and over his shoulders wasn't hair at all—it was green, red, and gold leaves! The brown robe resembled the bark of a tree. In his hand, the being held a jagged wooden staff, topped with the skull of some animal. What Naomi at first mistook for an absurd headdress, she now realized where the creature's own antlers—long and thin like a deer's, but spreading out as wide as a moose's.

"A satyr!" Snails gasped again. "By far the horniest of all known creatures in the realm!"

"Oh my god," Naomi's face scrunched up with disgust.

Had Tom and Harry really written an attempted rape into their comedy/fantasy? And had B'Elanna really gone along with it? What in all the universes could have inspired such a plot twist?

The figure spoke, and the voice surprised Naomi, because she'd just heard it half an hour ago, when she'd first entered the holodeck. It was Vorik!

"Fear not, my lady," Vorik the satyr approached the Amazon. "You have been granted a destiny that many would kill to have! The Fuckening is one of the rarest of all magical occasions. Only when the two moons meet in an eclipse," he gestured upward with his staff. "Only then, when a magical being fucks a virgin, can he implant that virgin with a powerful seed, a seed that will grow into a dragon! With our fire breathing child we can rule the Realm, as Emperor and Empress! It is still many hours until sunset. But we may pass that time with foreplay, or planning how we'll govern our new kingdom."

The Amazon snarled, and bellowed in B'Elanna's voice, "_NOBODY IS FUCKING ME!_"

"Cease your struggle," the satyr knelt over the Amazon, and Naomi cringed. "These chains have been cursed with all the powers of the forest—"

"I _am_ the Forest!" The Amazon spat back.

Then she brought her fists up, pulling against the chains. The tree roots that the chains were attached to ripped up from the ground. The satyr's eyes bulged, as one chain came flying loose from its post in the ground, and then the other. The Amazon roared again, and thrust her arms in a crisscross motion, bringing the chains inward, wrapping them around the satyr's body like two giant, clinking lassos. The satyr glanced down at his bound torso, then back up at the Amazon, and grinned bashfully, bobbing his eyebrows. With a final enraged roar, the Amazon gave the chains a yank just at the top, where they were wrapped around the satyr's neck. The satyr's antlered head popped off like the top of a dandelion, and went tumbling across the glen. A fountain of lime-green blood many feet tall sprouted up from his decapitated neck.

"_JESUS CHRIST_!" Naomi screamed, covering her mouth.

Snails slowly shook his head, awe-struck. "By all the gods in the skies and hells, the lady is _mad_!"

Marcellus' eyes were dazzling. "_What _a woman!"

The Amazon sat up on the altar. She didn't have B'Elanna's Klingon ridges, but her smooth forehead was crowned with a black studded headband. The eyes and lips, though both dark blue, were definitely B'Elanna's. B'Elanna's character didn't seem bothered by the spots of green blood that had rained all over her skin, hair and clothes. In fact, she wiped her finger on one of the blood drops on her cheek, and licked it with relish.

Naomi wondered what could have prompted such animosity towards Vorik in B'Elanna. But then she recalled the holoprogram she'd caught Vorik playing. Did Vorik and B'Elanna have some kind of history, that Naomi didn't know about? They always seemed to get along so well when she saw them together. But then again, she only saw them together at work, or at public gatherings. And even if they were fine friends in real life, this was just a silly holoprogram…which was written while B'Elanna and the others were _drunk. _Perhaps B'Elanna (and she was sure B'Elanna must have written this scene—there was no way Harry or Tom had done it and gotten away with it) liked Vorik just fine, but when drunk, had to release some deeply repressed desire to squeeze Vorik's head off.

"We must make sure she's all right!" Marcellus declared, holding his short sword high.

Naomi and Snails stared at Marcellus like he was a lunatic.

"Are—are you sure that's necessary?" Snails stuttered. "I…understand that the Amazons are quite capable of caring for themselves…and very proud…she may not _want_ our sympathy."

But Marcellus was already sliding down the ravine like a surfer, love-struck.

Reluctantly, Naomi and Snails followed.

The Amazon's ankles were still chained. Marcellus sheathed his sword, and bowed before her.

"Allow me, my lady."

The Amazon watched impassively as Marcellus unwrapped the chains from her boots.

"I thank thee, gentle knight." The Amazon bowed her head at him, as she swung her legs off the alter and hopped down.

"I am no knight, lady." Marcellus said modestly. "Just a ranger, bound to no one. No kingdom but the Realm, and no laws but his own free will."

"Impressive." She said, and he smiled proudly. "In a sad, sad, pitiful, sort of way."

The smile froze.

Naomi decided to join the conversation. "What do you fight for, Amazon Warrior?"

"I protect the forest." the Amazon said proudly. "I was charged with protecting all innocent life in this region of the Realm, since the sun first dawned over the Earth." She wrinkled her white nose, shaking her head at the headless corpse on the ground. "It pains me, to have killed one of my own brothers of the forest. But his hunger for power pains me more."

Snails nodded with approval. "Indeed, the fucker had it coming."

"Well." The Amazon looked from Naomi, to Snails, to Marcellus. "Who are you, and what were you seeking in these woods?"

"I am Marcellus, Ranger." Marcellus said proudly.

"And I am Xunicious, high priest of the elves. But among mortals I am known as Snails."

The Amazon looked sarcastically impressed, then turned to Naomi.

"Lady Ktaris." Naomi said. "I'm, uh,"

"Not from around here." The Amazon finished. "Don't worry, I have no problem with outsiders. Provided they don't try to fuck me."

Marcellus' face fell upon hearing this, but he maintained his composure.

"So," Naomi asked, "Do Amazons have names?"

The Amazon threw her head back in polite laughter. "Forgive me! The animals and spirits know me so well, I often forget to introduce myself among mortals. My name is Stovoka."

_Stovoka? Like…Sto-Vo-Kor?_ Weird. B'Elanna didn't talk much about being Klingon. Mom had even warned Naomi, when she was younger, not to bring the subject up to the Chief Engineer. B'Elanna seemed very much to be embracing her Klingon side, in this holonovel. Or maybe it was Tom, praising it for her. Or some combination of both.

"Stovoka," Marcellus said. "Would an Amazon warrior stoop to the level of mortals, and join us on our quest?"

"I'm not a mortal!" Snails argued.

Stovoka eyed the group with an amused look. "What is your quest?"

Everyone looked at each other, once again.

Marcellus folded his arms, and pursed his lips. "We…seem to have already completed it." He gestured to Stovoka. "Or rather, you've completed it for us."

"You thought me a damsel in distress." Stovoka raised a blue eyebrow.

Terrified of insulting her, Marcellus said quickly, "Well, we just heard a scream,"

"I screamed when I saw what that horny goat's chains had done to my boots." Stovoka lifted one foot to examine the scrapes on the fine leather. "It took me the better half of a century to make these! Made from the rarest of chimera's hide!"

"So…new quest?" Naomi suggested.

Stovoka smiled. "Which way?"

Snails shrugged. "You're the one who knows the forest!"

"My territory's been peaceful for the time being, save the horndog satyr. If you want adventure, we should go in this direction, where my forest will soon end." Stovoka continued speaking, as she rifled the dead satyr for his weapons. Cartoonish bangs, clatters, and honks echoed from within, as she dug through his robe and pulled out knifes, arrows, and satchels of treasure. "I know a mortal who rules not two days from here." She sheathed a long sword into her belt. "A valiant prince. He is always on the lookout for a soul in need. If anyone can point us in the direction of a worthy quest, I'm certain it's him." she sheathed a few knives in her boots, and slung some arrows over her shoulder.

Naomi had no idea where Stovoka was getting all these weapons; she was pulling them out of the dead satyr's robe, which gave no indication of anything bulky or weapon-like underneath. Curiously, she lifted the satyr's rope, just to see if there was some kind of small universe or broom closet inside. She at least wanted to know what was making those cartoony noises. Stovoka looked at her sharply, more out of shock than anger.

"Woa!" Marcellus took Naomi's hand away from the body. "Forgive our comrade. She is unfamiliar with the ways of the road."

Snails knelt besides Naomi. "A warrior must never touch another's spoils. That's why you had to take the troll's ear, after you slew him."

Naomi nodded and backed away from Stovoka's "spoils."

The party of four turned and made their way through the woods, Stovoka in the lead.

"So," Stovoka said conversationally, "You slew a troll! Let's hear about it."

"Well, it was dark…" Naomi began dramatically. "Inside the pub at least…"

* * *

**A/N: I apologize to anyone who likes Vorik. I honestly like him. The point of this was not to rip on Vorik…just a very silly look into B'Elanna and Tom's subconscious. **


	4. The Tattooed Knight

**Chapter 4: The Tattooed Knight**

* * *

They spent the next many minutes wandering the forest, listening to Marcellus tell boasting tales to Stovoka of all the battles he'd fought. Snails often corrected him on certain details ("Marc, I don't recall you wetting the wood with the orcs' blood so much as wetting your pantaloons,") to which Marcellus would either come up with some lame excuse ("My bladder was full from drinking the blood of my enemies!") or simply ignore outright and try to talk over.

Naomi was just starting to get bored again, when something flew up between her eyes. Someone was pointing an arrow at her. Frozen in place, she watched as archers burst out of the woods, dressed in greens and browns, and brought arrows up to the heads of Marcellus, Snails and Stovoka, stopping them all in their tracks.

"Who enters the forest of the Tattooed Knight?" one of the archers demanded.

Naomi wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or scoff. "_Really?_"

"Stovoka!" the Amazon answered loudly, her white arms held up in surrender. "Surely Prince Val Jean recognizes a friend!"

"Val Jean…" Naomi muttered to herself.

Chakotay's Maquis ship. And a character from _Le Mis_. A week or two ago, Naomi had made the terrible mistake of telling the Doctor that she'd enjoyed watching the musical with her mother, and had been treated to him humming or singing the songs almost every time she entered sickbay, ever since.

"I do recognize a friend." The voice was soft but powerful…and angry. "As much as I recognize a dickless traitor!"

Commander Chakotay marched out of the forest, pointing accusingly at Tom. Or rather, Prince Val Jean marched out, pointing at Marcellus. Naomi was really starting to admire the costuming work Tom, B'Elanna and Harry had put into this program, even when hammered. The prince had on a maroon vest embroidered with gold leaves and vines, over a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up just below the elbow. A broadsword hung from one hip, a curved dagger on the other. Like his henchmen, Val Jean held a bow and wore a sling of arrows. It was definitely Chakotay's face, framed under black, shoulder-length hair flecked with silver. His tattoo had been redesigned. A medieval sun sat over his eye, trailing a stylized bird (or angel) wing that pretty much matched up with where his tribal design in real life went. The design continued with some stars down his cheek, ending in a medieval crescent moon framing his eye from the bottom. All in all, quite silly looking, but Naomi decided she liked it. (Though she also decided to never, ever mention this program to the Commander. Or anyone, for that matter.)

Stovoka, still in the surrender pose, looked back at Marcellus. "You two know each other?"

Marcellus, also with his hands raised, shrugged bashfully.

"Yes," Val Jean stopped inches away from Marcellus' face, glaring at him. "We've known each other since our mother left this world to bring him into it." His voice rose. "And this is the thanks you give her!"

"Right," Marcellus glared back. "Because you just _know_ what ma would want me to do with my life! You can just read dead people's minds, or something?"

"You're brothers?!" Naomi exclaimed.

_That _was a twist.

Val Jean gave his head the tiniest of shakes. "Not anymore."

Val Jean lifted a finger under his brother's nose. Marcellus looked down at it, with wide, angry eyes.

"You were given the simplest of tasks! To fight beside your brother in the last battle of the Ogre Wars, and save your people from neigh destruction! You never showed up! We found you stoned in the barn, sleeping with the pigs, calling each of them the name of a different servant girl you'd been with that night! But who'd all left you for drunk long after you'd passed out!"

"I was nervous!" Marcellus argued. "I thought a little drink and some friendly company would take the edge off before a battle! Is it such a crime to be frightened, before fighting an army of ogres?"

"You had three days to get the edge off, man." Val Jean said, still in the dramatic high-fantasy tone. "Our kingdom dwindled thanks to your cowardice! Two of our three castles fell, and we were driven into the corners of our land!" Turning to look at Naomi, Stovoka and Snails, Val Jean said bitterly, "Our father exiled him, stripped him of his title of prince. Under pain of death, this drunken bastard isn't allowed to set food in our kingdom."

"I was an exile since the day I was born!" Marcellus snapped back. "Mother was always around to tell Father how brave and noble and badass you were! No one was there to do that for me."

"You ungrateful—!" Val Jean actually threw his bow to the ground. "You lived the life of a prince! And you couldn't give up three day's worth of the luxuries for something greater than yourself!"

"Life of a prince," Marcellus spit at his brother. "Life of a _shadow_! Being your brother was a curse. The whole _kingdom_ wanted to suck your dick! _No one _wanted to suck mine!"

"Your dick might be _worthy_ of sucking, were it equip with a pair of balls!" Val Jean thundered.

"Val, my love," one of the archers lifted her hood, and put her hands on Val Jean's arm. "We shouldn't show such anger before our guests."

Naomi didn't recognize this woman. She was human, with dark hair, and very severe eyebrows over piercing eyes. Wide lips colored a deep red smiled up at the prince, making his anger weaken. Val Jean took one of her hands in his own, then turned back to Stovoka.

"My apologies," he said softly. "The emotions run high, in this matter." His eyes shifted in the direction of Marcellus, but he didn't look directly at him again. "My lady Stovoka, and her two friends," he gestured to Naomi and Snails, "Are welcomed guests in this forest. But my father's law holds firm about…" he glanced again in Marcellus' direction.

Calmly, Stovoka replied, "We are in the mists of a quest. Or rather, we're searching for a quest. We stopped by only in the hopes that you might point us in the direction of one."

Val Jean surveyed the group. "If…Marcellus, is able to find a place outside our boarders to spend the night, the rest of you may sup in our halls, and we'll discuss what matters in the Realm an Amazon, and elf, a human and an Outsider can help to solve."

Naomi's eyebrows raised. "You know where I'm from?"

"I know where you're _not _from." Val Jean looked down at her, with the same amused, grown-up look Chakotay gave when she asked a good question in Anthropology. "I've yet to meet any species from this Realm that can wield weapons and wear armor by your age."

The program probably improvised, for whoever was playing. If Icheb was here, they probably would have commented on his metal implants, or his unique way of wording things.

"You three may follow me to our castle, if you wish. And you," Val Jean thumbed behind him to Marcellus, "Bugger off!"


	5. Succubus!

**Chapter 5: Succubus!**

* * *

Marcellus obeyed his older brother, and with a final obscenity that Naomi didn't clearly hear, turned and dashed off into the forest. Snails watched his friend go with wide puppy eyes, identical to the ones Harry Kim wore whenever he was in pain, just bright blue instead of dark brown. Stovoka watched her admirer go regrettably, then sighed and turned back to her prince.

Prince Val Jean and his archers led Naomi, Snails, and Stovoka on a hike through the forest, back to their kingdom. Staring at the sky, Naomi saw the sun move across the center in a matter of seconds, finally coming to a stop at the point that indicated late afternoon. The implication being that they had been "traveling" for several hours. Nothing else was sped up, like the characters' walk or conversations, so it wasn't like a "fast-forward." It was a stylized form of storytelling. Naomi wondered whether it was Tom, Harry or B'Elanna who had come up with that idea.

"Hey," Naomi realized, "Weren't those two moons supposed to eclipse, or something?" she pointed to the two moons visible in the afternoon sky (one almost identical to Earth's moon, the other resembling a potato).

"Not tonight." Stovoka said. "The horny satyr got his astrology wrong. The Fuckening wouldn't have been in effect until next week."

Val Jean scoffed. "Speak not of that profane ritual here, Stovie!"

Val Jean's castle was loosely based on the medieval Gothic design, with flying buttresses and round towers, drawbridge, moat, etc. It had a somewhat curved shape, like an inward pointing crescent, and three large towers with pointed roofs, the center being the largest. Squinting at it, Naomi searched for some hidden meaning in its shape.

"It's a bit run down," Val Jean said modestly, as they neared the castle. "But it's home. I wish I could tell you that it's better looking on the inside, but since the Ogre Wars, we've been a bit under the weather I'm afraid."

"I think it's awesome!" Naomi assured him. "I'm just…" as an experiment, she decided to break the fourth wall to the character. "I'm just trying to figure out if the authors of this holonovel based it on anything."

"My lady, everything in the realm is based on _something_." Prince Val Jean gestured with his bow around the walking group. "Every individual you meet in the realm, every building and beast you find, is either an offensive caricature of someone's shipmates, a rip-off from a famous movie, or the deranged fantasies of a horny drunkard. You'll find many things in the land of Elvira, but rest assured, none of them will be original."

"So you," Naomi looked at the prince. "You know about the authors? And being a hologram? Do you know how this all ends?"

"Nay, pipsqueak." Val Jean looked over at his castle, now silhouetted before the setting sun. "I don't know the word 'hologram' or what our fates may be. But I know that we are characters in some twisted fantasy, and that fantasy is filled with symbols that you, the hero, must interpret."

Good gods, he was on about "interpreting the symbols," just like Chakotay did, whenever she told him one of her funny dreams or disturbing nightmares.

"Wait, Cha—Val—Your Highness,"

"Please, it's Val." The prince said, still staring ahead serenely. "Or V.J."

"Val, what, what's that mean? 'Interpret the symbols'?"

Without missing a beat the prince shrugged and said, "I don't know I'm stoned."

They crossed a short drawbridge, through the arched doorway and under the portcullis, and were greeted by a small group of knights in metal armor, with helmets that hit their faces. The leader of this group had two curved longhorns on his helmet, like a Viking. Not for the first time, Naomi thought of a movie Tom had showed everyone, "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." Unable to contain herself, she squeaked, "Ni!" The knight raised the shield of his helmet, revealing the face of Tuvok. With a pointed, black goatee. And hilariously bushy eyebrows.

Prince Val Jean introduced the knight. "General Uther Uptight, the Captain of the Guard."

Stovoka and Snails were impressed, but Naomi was just confused again.

"Wait…huh? Is Uptight a captain, or a general?"

"I am the captain of this group of generals." General Uptight said, with Tuvok's usual Vulcan monotone.

Naomi couldn't see Uptight's ears in that helmet, to tell if they were pointed like Tuvok's. But now that he'd stepped closer, she could see how his mustache and goatee curled at the ends. She also noticed that he had a monocle over his left eye. And that Viking helmet…She bit her lip, and found it impossible not to laugh. The others watched her reaction as if they'd expected it.

"I see that you quiver with fear, before my awesome power." Uptight said, looking down at Naomi. "You cannot help yourself. I am not fully human after all; my mother is Thorboudica, Goddess of War and Logic, and my father is Roger the Shrubber. He designs, builds, and sells shrubberies. I myself tend the shrubberies in this palace from time to time, when I am not decapitating enemies…"

* * *

General Uptight was still blabbing in that monotone voice when they were sitting down for supper. He left his Viking helmet on, even after he'd changed into casual clothes. Snails, Stovoka and Naomi had been given elegant outfits by Val Jean's servants. Naomi couldn't stop running her hand along the soft, olive-green velvet of her dress. It was a medieval style, with a flowing skirt and sleeves, gold cords crisscrossing around her forearms and lacing up her top. Stovoka's blood red dress was somewhat medieval looking too, but more "witchy." It showed off just enough for Naomi to presume that Tom had designed it, but was modest enough that B'Elanna would have agreed to wear it in this holonovel. The deep red looked pretty cool against Stovoka's white skin and indigo hair, Naomi thought. Snails had been given a fluffy white pirate blouse and a dark blue vest. With his loud blonde hair, it made him look like some kind of flamboyant rock singer.

"I apologize on the king's behalf." Val Jean said, as servants set down mushroom, cheese, and pepperoni pizzas onto the grand tables. "He's out sick, in the north tower. Caught a cold fighting off Lobstrosity the Sea Creature when he infiltrated our moat two days ago."

"I hope he feels better soon," Naomi said, eying the pepperoni pizza.

As they feasted upon the pizza, chips, and pop, a group of minstrels began to tune up their medieval instruments. Naomi wasn't surprised to see the Doctor leading the group, in emerald-green tights, a poofy white blouse, and a feathered cap. A few of the ensigns and crewmen who sometimes played instruments to his singing concerts were also recognizable, with their hair styles changed slightly. Naomi was slightly surprised when, as they began stringing, blowing and batting at their harps, guitars, flutes, and tambourines, the sounds of very 1960s instruments somehow echoed forth. The Doctor began the singing, solo at first:

"_In the town where I was born, lived a maaaan, who sailed to sea…and he told us of his life, in the laaand, of submarines_…"

It was hard to discuss the politics of Elvira, while the minstrels were singing "Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles. Everyone except Tuvok/Uptight was swaying or mouthing along to the music. Watching Val Jean/Chakotay, Naomi tried really hard not to think any racist jokes about peace pipes and '60s music, and failed miserably.

Correction, one other person wasn't singing or swaying along. It was that brunette woman, Val Jean's lover. Now gowned in purple, she slowly raised her goblet of Root Beer to her lips, sweeping her brown eyes around the room in an obviously suspicious manner. She might as well have had a neon sign over—correction: she suddenly _did_ have a neon sign floating above her head, with an arrow pointing down to her in flashing lime green, that read: BAD GUY! Naomi blinked, and the sign was gone. The woman rose from her seat, and cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, my prince," she said to Val Jean. "I've forgotten that mushroom pizza doesn't agree with me, and I'm afraid I've already let out a big one."

Val Jean smiled and shrugged. "I didn't hear anything."

"Nay. But in a few moments, it may begin to smell. I'd best head to the little girl's room."

"So, who's she again?" Naomi asked, as the woman turned down the hall.

General Uptight answered, "That is Sheila, the prince's mistress."

Val Jean cleared his throat. "Ah, I prefer the term 'lady friend.'"

"They're having sex." Snails said simply.

"Actually, _no_." Val Jean sprinkled a few cheddar-and-sour-cream chips onto his plate. "A prince—a _real _prince—doesn't fool around until he is married, and then, only with his queen. I'm still unsure if Sheila is the one, but, hmm," he bit his lip and shook his head. "She is one fiiine looking maid, no lie!"

A servant came to take a now empty pizza pan, and knocked over Snails' goblet of Pepsi, spilling it onto Naomi's dress. "Oh! Forgive me my lady!" the servant girl grabbed a paper napkin off the table and tried to wipe it off Naomi's skirt. "Oh dear…you'd best go to the restroom and clean up."

_And overhear Sheila's evil plot, I'll bet. _

Naomi took the maid's advice, and hurried out of the great hall, turning down a stone corridor. She easily found the two wooden doors labeled in Old English, "Sires" and "Ladys." The inside of the women's room looked much like the public latrines on Voyager, with separate stalls and washing sinks, but medieval-styled. Sheila wasn't there, but she'd left her cloak draped over one of the sinks. Naomi hid in one of the stalls and stood behind the wooden door, watching through the crack. She'd never try something like this in real life, assuming that anyone would check the stalls and see her immediately, before revealing something important; but in a fantasy as absurd and trite as this, there was a good chance Sheila wouldn't be so smart. Sure enough, the woman returned to the stall, accompanied by one of Val Jean's rangers. It was a brown haired man with exaggerated buck-teeth, sniffling after Sheila like some kind of henchmen.

"Again!" Sheila threw up her hands. "This marks the fourth time you've failed me, Jared!"

"Actually m'lady, 'tis the fifth time. When you asked me to re-cobble your shoe for you this morning, I accidently dropped it into the moat, and one of the crocodiles devoured it. Forgive me!" Jared expelled saliva as he spoke.

Ignoring this bit of news, Sheila snarled, "I gave you the simple task of spiking the prince's soda tonight. And you somehow manage to confuse a love potion with 7-Up?" Sheila struck Jared across the face. "We're going to try this again, Jared! You're gonna spike Val Jean's drink with my potion. And then he'll finally forget about his princely duties, and succumb to my charms."

Jared snorted. "Kinda sad, if you have ta drug a guy to get him to shag you."

"This isn't about getting laid, dumbass!" Sheila paced around the room, her purple skirts twirling dramatically. "This is about DNA! I am no _ordinary _succubus you know." She turned to the mirror.

Naomi was not surprised to see a different, more monstrous version of the woman reflected in the mirror; that cliché, she'd seen in a dozen fairy tales. The real Sheila had green scaly skin with gold snake-like spots, yellow reptilian eyes, and her hair was a bushel of black, hissing, snakes, a la Medusa. What _did_ surprise Naomi though was the _face _on that succubus; the wide eyes under the bumpy, Cardassian-like scales. Naomi didn't remember Seska personally, but she'd read a lot about her in Voyager's database. She covered her mouth with her hands, to muffle her gasp.

"I am She-Raspth, daughter of S'Lorth! And I will have a daughter of my own! Or a son. And that son or daughter will be a dragon. A dragon who will help me rule Elvira, indefinitely, forever, until the ends of the realm!"

"A bit redundant, isn't that?" Jared muttered.

"Shut up!" Sheila leaned in on her grotesque reflection, grinning menacingly. "Prince Val Jean is strong and intelligent. He's noble and badass, and one smoking-hot hunk of man meat! All of the qualities I'd want in a dragon! His DNA combined with my own will result in a beast the likes of which the realm has never witnessed! Once I have him wrapped around my finger, I'll ensure he remains a virgin until next Tuesday night, when the moons eclipse, and the Fuckening is upon us! Keep him waiting, let him get pumped up for it. And then…" she trailed off into a low chuckle, which grew into a shrieking laugh.

Jared joined in on her laughter, with his own dorky snorts. Sheila stopped, and stared at her henchmen. Then she shook out her brown hair, and strode back out of the restroom, giving Jared a painful-looking wedgie along the way.

Naomi was left alone in the stall, to contemplate what she'd just witnessed. Sheila, Seska! Jared….Jonas! Crewman Michael Jonas, that guy who'd betrayed Voyager, to help Seska, back when Naomi was an infant (or before she'd been born, she couldn't remember). And Val Jean…Seska had been Chakotay's lover, everyone on Voyager knew that. Naomi had also learned from Voyager's database that Seska had tried to impregnate herself with DNA she stole from Chakotay, after she'd captured him for a time. Why she'd done so, no one had ever found out, and Naomi had never had the gall to bring the subject up to Chakotay. What was this doing in Tom, B'Elanna, and Harry's fairy tale program? B'Elanna and Seska had been friends…and B'Elanna was close with Chakotay. B'Elanna was half Klingon, and very protective of her friends. She probably regretted not being able to personally kick Seska's ass, for what she'd done to poor Chakotay. And this fantasy program was giving B'Elanna the chance. Giving everyone the chance. To kick Seska's Cardassian ass.

With a new wave of determination, Naomi tore out of the restroom, and back to the great hall.

Sheila was laughing with the prince now. "…nothing, I just saw some funny graffiti on the wall, whilst I was having a tinkle. That's what I was laughing about…"

Val Jean smiled, as he absent mindedly reached cup on a tray, offered to him by Jared.

"NO!" Naomi bounded foreword and smacked the tray out of Jared's hands, sending the cup tumbling to the floor. "Don't drink it Val! It's dangerous!"

Val Jean stared impassively at the spilled cup and tray, and then said gently, "Lady Ktaris, with all due respect. I'm not the one, it seems, who can't handle my ale."

"I'm not drunk!" Naomi exclaimed. "We were drinking soda pop for Q's sake! I'm trying to warn you, that soda was poisoned! And she's a succubus!" Naomi pointed at Sheila, whose eyes widened in an _Oh Crap_ expression. "She's tricking you! It's a trap! It's a booby trap!"

Snails and Stovoka stared at Naomi, and then at Sheila. Uther Uptight arched one enormous eyebrow inquisitively. Val Jean narrowed his black eyes at Naomi.

"Ktaris, that is a very serious accusation. I've known Lady Sheila for almost an entire week now, and she's given me no reason at all to doubt her love."

Naomi grabbed one of the shining silver plates off the table and held it up to Sheila like a mirror.

Val Jean took one look at the beastly reflection, and burst out of his chair, stumbling back. "Thor's nut sack, get that demon away from me!"

Sheila let a long frustrated sigh escape her teeth. "_Shit_."

"He's in on it too!" Naomi pointed at Jared.

Val Jean looked sharply at Jared, who shrugged sheepishly with a buck-toothed grin.

"Archer Jared!" Uther Uptight rose from his chair suddenly, and strode over to stare him down behind that monocle. "If you are working with this monster, then I have but one question." He raised one eyebrow. "What were our mistress's orders?"

"What?" Val Jean whispered.

"_What?!_" Naomi shrieked.

_Tuvok? A traitor? Why? _

Jared had no answer for Uptight, and glanced over at Sheila.

Sheila pursed her lips, and finally said, "Grab him."

Val Jean had his sword out before Uptight or Jared could touch him. Stovoka and Snails pulled their weapons out from under their chairs, and Naomi ran for her sword. The other knights and archers drew their weapons and moved to protect their prince, but were suddenly each blocked by a massive snake that appeared with a green cloud of smoke in front of them. The Doctor and the other minstrels were hiding under one of the tables, covering their heads. Sheila was backing away from the commotion, her hands held out with green smoke emitting from them.

Stovoka and Snails closed in on Sheila, their sword and elf daggers raised. Naomi ran up between them, her sword ready. Stovoka had no problem moving and fighting in a dress. Naomi had to consciously make sure she didn't trip over her own skirt. As they closed in on the succubus, Sheila rolled her brown eyes back into her head, and almost seemed to double over. There came a grotesque crunching, crinkling sound, which ended in a cartoony pop. Sheila was shedding her skin. The human layer crumbled down into a pile, and the real Sheila—or She-Raspth—emerged, green, scaly, and Medusa-haired.

Swords clanked, as Val Jean moved by behind Sheila, still fighting Uptight and Jared. When Uptight and Jared seemed to have Val Jean's sword pinned against the wall, Jared reached with his free hand to grab the prince's arm. Val Jean, with _his_ free hand, drew his curved dagger and hacked off Jared's hand at the wrist. Bright (and phony-looking) red blood sprayed clean over Val Jean's head, and Uptight moved just in time, wincing slightly.

"Hey!" Jared cried, grabbing his stump. "I've only got two of those!"

"Then you should learn to keep them to yourself!" The prince barked back. "And that goes for you too!" he yelled at Sheila. Then he kicked Uptight away from him and bounded to one of the tables, leaping into the bench, as if this was somehow a safe zone.

"You'll come to appreciate me, V.J.!" Sheila hissed, mostly in the same voice she'd had as a human.

Thinking she was distracted, Snails made a stab at Sheila with his knives. Sheila may have been distracted, but her hair was not. One of the black snakes on her head shot out and nipped Snails on the nose. The elf screamed, and fell back onto the floor, grabbing his throbbing honker. Green tendrils spread across his face, as the poison took hold. With a short enraged cry, Stovoka slashed at Medusa's hair with her sword. The snakes dodged the blade automatically. Then Sheila shot a smoke-ball from her hand at Stovoka's sword, and the blade transformed into a massive un-peeled banana. Stovoka stared at her banana, horrified. But then she realized she could still work with it, regained her confidence, and brought the banana down into the succubus's face, blinding her with mush. Sheila stumbled back, trying to wipe the mashed banana off her face. Stovoka ran to Snails, whose body was beginning to shrivel like a raisin.

Naomi figured that now was her turn to take on Sheila. She had a feeling that tying to stab the succubus in the heart or decapitate her wouldn't work. There was probably some Achilles Heel on her, like Quarkus's ear. The most obvious thing was that Cardassian "spoon" on her forehead. Naomi swung her sword, bringing its tip down into Sheila's head-spoon. It bounced back off, harmlessly. _Crap. _Sheila stared at Naomi, unimpressed. Then the snakes on her head stretched out towards Naomi. Naomi moved backwards, and tripped over her olive-green skirt. While she was down, one of the snakes wrapped itself around her ankle.

"If _you _won't father my dragon Val," Sheila shouted to the prince, "Then perhaps _she _will!"

"No!" The prince jumped down from the bench and ran forward, stopping just a few feet from Sheila and Naomi.

"No!" Naomi yelled at Val Jean. "That makes no sense! I'm a girl! She can't do it to me."

"Oh yes I can!" Sheila laughed. "I know a dark magic the likes of which you mortals cannot fathom! I'll _make_ it possible, Ktaris from the Netherwords!"

"No! No don't, please!" Val Jean let his sword clatter to the floor and fell to his knees.

Behind Sheila, Stovoka rose to her feet and raised her sword, but then remembered that her "sword" was now just a handle with a bit of mushed banana jetting out. She shrugged, and continued towards the succubus, making to whack her on the back of the head. But one of the giant serpents, who'd been holding back Val Jean's guards, came up from behind and wrapping itself around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Let the squirt go!" Val Jean begged.

Sheila leered down at him. "Do we have a date?"

Val Jean swallowed, and held out his arms in surrender, inviting Sheila to bind him.

"Prince wait, think about this!" Naomi hollered. "_You_ can fight her if she captures me, but _I'm _just a—"

No one was listening. Sheila vanished in a cloud of smoke, and reappeared behind Val Jean. The prince was soon wrapped in her black hair snakes with his hands bound in front of him, like he'd been captured by a pirate. Sheila tucked her arms around his chest and set her head on his shoulder. Val Jean looked away, as if he wasn't sure whether he'd really resigned to this fate, or if he wanted to work out some other way to escape it.

"It's been fun everyone," Sheila sighed, "And I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got people to do and things to see." She jerked her head at her two henchmen.

Uptight hurried over to her. Jared, whose stump was still squirting blood like the Black Knight from Tom's "Monty Python" movie, stopped to retrieve his severed hand, and then joined his mistress. Sheila kissed Val Jean on the check, and then the four of them vanished in a cloud of smoke, along with all the serpents who'd been holding the guards at bay.

Naomi still lay on the ground, panting now. All of the knights and archers stood, staring at the spot where their prince had been spirited away. Stovoka came up behind Naomi.

"Snails snuffed it." The Amazon said gravely. Nothing was left of Snails clothes lay in a sizzling pile. "He'll make a full recovery of course. But Val Jean, I'm less confident about."

"This…" Naomi panted, pushing herself up. "…sucks!"

"No," Stovoka's indigo eyes were resolute. "This…is a quest!"

* * *

**A/N: As Prince Val Jean said, there's nothing original in this story! **

**The name "General Uptight" is stolen directly from an adult comedy film called "The Lord of the G-Strings." (That General Uptight had no first name, however.) Seska's alias of "Sheila" was inspired by the female lead in "The Army of Darkness." The gag with Jared retrieving his severed hand was a ripoff of a hilarious subplot in "The Ice Pirates" (a sci-fi comedy from the '80s). Rodger the Shrubber is a character from "Holy Grail." The word "lobstrosity" is something I thought of myself several years ago; however, upon looking it up on Google, I found that Steven King used the word in one of his books. And of course, the plot between Sheila and Val Jean is a gender-reversal of the plot from "Your Highness." **


End file.
